"I began, then, to feel some security," said Louise, "when one night Ferrand and his housekeeper both went out, each their own way. They did not dine at home; I remained alone. As usual, they left me some bread and water, and wine. My work finished, I dined; and then, fearing to remain alone in the apartments, I went up to my own room, after having lighted M. Ferrand's lamp. When he went out at night no one waited for him. I began to sew, and, what was very unusual, by degrees, sleep overpowered me. Oh, father," cried Louise, "you will not believe me--you will accuse me of falsehood; and yet, on the corpse of my little sister, I swear I tell you the truth." "Explain yourself," said Rudolph. "Alas! sir, for seven months I sought in vain to explain to myself this frightful night. I have almost lost my reason in trying to explore this mystery." "Oh!" cried the artisan, "what is she going to say?" "Contrary to my custom, I fell asleep on my chair," continued Louise. "That is the last thing I recollect. Before--before--oh, father, pardon! I swear to you I am not culpable." "I believe you, I believe you; but speak!" "I do not know how long I slept; when I awoke I was still in my chamber, but--" * * * * * * * "Oh! the wretch, the wretch," cried Rudolph. "Do you know, Morel, what he gave her to drink?" The artisan looked at Rudolph, but made no reply. "The housekeeper, his accomplice, had put in the drink of Louise a soporific--opium, without doubt; the strength, the senses of your child have been paralyzed for some hours; when she awoke from this lethargic sleep, the crime was committed." "Ah! now," cried Louise, "my misfortune is explained; you see, father, I am less guilty than I appear. Father, father! answer me!" The look of the artisan was of a frightful vagueness. Such horrible perversity could not be understood by so honest and simple-hearted a man. He could hardly comprehend the dreadful revelation. And, besides, it must be said, that for some moments his reason had deserted him; at each moment his ideas became more obscure; then he fell into that vacuity of thought which is to the mind what night is to the sight: formidable symptoms of mental alienation. Yet Morel answered, in a quick, dull, and a mournful tone, "Oh! yes, it is very wicked, very wicked, wicked." And he fell back into his apathy. Rudolph looked at him with anxiety: he thought that the intensity of indignation began to be exhausted with him; the same as after violent griefs tears are often wanting. Wishing to terminate as soon as possible this sad conversation, Rudolph said to Louise: "Courage, my child; finish unveiling this tissue of horrors." "Alas! sir, what you have heard is nothing as yet." * * * * * * * "Ah! all precautions were taken to conceal his enormity!" said Rudolph.